


The newcomer

by Readerstories



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: M/M, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-08-21 23:03:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8263645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Readerstories/pseuds/Readerstories
Summary: Finally, the Sons have sorted their shit out. They're out of the drug stuff, the guns are going steady, the cops and feds are leaving them alone for the time being, and they have settled into some sort of normalcy. And then you come along, stirring up things in the small town of Charming.





	1. Welcome to Charming

**Author's Note:**

> Set around the time that Jax was getting the club out of drugs, and somewhere before Opie died.

Normal. It's not a word often associated with the Sons, but for now it feels right to use it. They have no law-enforcement hunting them (they're keeping an eye on them, but still), the guns are running without any problems, life has almost settled into some sort of rutine for the guys at the clubhouse. Work, deliver the goods, be with family, and of course party their asses off. It's almost quiet, normal. But soon that will be interrupted by someone. He can feel it.

"Hey Jax, where do you want these?" Jax snaps out of his own thoughts when Juice yells at him. At first he don't understand the question, then he sees the boxes of liquor he's standing next to.

"We can take half of it out and put it in the bar, the rest can go to storage."

"Okay, I'll do it, keep doing whatever you were doing." Juice starts the job og unloading a few of the boxes, a familiar thing by now. The clubhouse drinks it's way through a lot of liquor every time there's a party.

"Why are you still here by the way? I thought we had a shipment coming in today?"

"We do, but there's something I need to do first. You remember the old farm right outside town?"

"The one we borrowed from time to time from that old lady for club business? The old lady who died a few months back?"

"Yeah. I got some information that the guy who inherited the place is moving in today, so I'm going by to say hello and see if we can't keep the same deal as we had with the old lady."

"Who are you taking with you?" 

"You and Tig, don't know much about this guy. All I know is that he lived far away, so there was a lot of paperwork, and that's why he hasn't moved in sooner. So get ready, we drive out in 15 minutes." Jax leaves the room, Juice watches his back as he goes. He hopes whoever the guy is agrees to the deal, he really don't want to deal with more shit right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been thinking about staring this fic for a while, don't know how long it will be, but I got the basic plot down. Hope you'll like what I write.


	2. You

As soon as you arrive on the farm, you realise that it probably wasn't the best idea to move here. The guy who had contacted you said that it was in pristine shape, and that is true. Every building have been renovated in the last few years, and the equipment, animals and plants are all here, but probably still it's a bad move.

You have really nothing here, no friends, no contacts, nothing personal here. All you got is a farm from a very distant relative you didn't even know existed until you were contacted by a lawyer asking for you. But then again, this situation might be a good thing. You had wanted to start a new life and this might be the best way to do it. Nothing to hold you back or tempt you to return to the life you certainly don't miss.

You start moving the little you have out of your rental car. Mostly it's just clothes and some personal effects, it hadn't been enough for it being worth renting a van, so you had found a place to rent the car. You need to by one permanently soon, but this will do for now. Some things you had already bought (like the illegal gun in your trunk, just in case, not that anyone needed to know), others you would need to buy as soon as possible.

You only have one box left in your car when you hear someone coming up the long driveway. It's sounds like motorcycles, you suspect at least three of them. When they turn the bend, your suspicions are confirmed. The seems to be in no hurry and calmly parks and dismounts their bikes before walking over to you. You move closer to the trunk.

It's one blond guy, one with dark curls, and one with a mohawk and tattoos. The other two also have them, although not on their heads. They're all wearing matching kutte with a reaper on their back and the name of something on the back of it. (You only catch a glimpse of it while they dismount.)

"Who are you? I can't recall the lawyer saying anything about a welcoming committee."

"But that's just what we are. Welcome to Charming." The blond guy, clearly the guy in charge, reaches his hand out. The other two guys stay behind him, silent. You take his hand, mostly because you do not want to make enemies even before you have moved in.

"Thank you. Now who the fuck are you?" You swear you see the two silent guys trying not to grin, but their leader clearly aren't as bashful, letting the grin spread over his face.

"Jax Teller, head of the local motorcycle club in town, Sons of Anarchy. The guy with the dark hair is Tig Trager, the guy with the head-tattoos are Jucie Ortiz."

"Juice? As in the drink?"

"Yeah." The guy who's name apparently is Juice has a more scratchy voice (honestly is quite nice).

"Weird, you americans are so weird."

"You americans? You're not american?" 

"No."

"Then where are you from?" This time is the Tig guy that speaks up.

"Somewhere far away. Now, I doubt you came here to get my life story, so why are you really here? Except from being my welcome committee of course." Jax changes a look with the two others, a look you think means that they don't really like your attitude. Jax steps closer to you, too much in your personal space. You don't move an inch.

"Well you see, the old woman who lived here, your relative, used to be a good friend of the club." You say nothing, still keeping your stone face.

"Sometimes she would do us some favors from time to time, and then we might help her in return. Now, in her later years, she couldn't move much so that arrangement stopped. Now that someone younger are back to the place, we thought that that could be a thing again."

"Favors? What kind of favors?" If the reputation of biker-gangs are true, you would guess something criminal.

"Oh, you know. Storage of some supplies, a place to hang out sometimes when needed. Those kind of favors." The grin turns shark, and yep, you were defiantly right. You stay quiet for a few seconds. He's still way to close to you, but you don't even shift on your feet.

"Hold on one second." You move around to the front of your car, reaching in through the open car window to open the glove compartment, ruffling around in it to find what you are looking for. It's a small plastic folder with some papers in them, it's takes you only a few seconds to find it. In those few seconds, the blond have moved closer, efficiently cutting your way off to the trunk of the car.

"Let me see.... It should be here somewhere..." You flip through the papers, trying to find what you are looking for.

"Ah, here it is. It's a part of the old lady's testament, it's something I didn't understand before now. 'Now for one last thing. You will probably be wary of the inhabitants of Charming, but please let me tell you something; do not fear the reaper. It can be your greatest friend and ally if you let it.' " You throw the papers into the passenger seat, leaning against the car.

"The old lady had a soft spot for you guys apparently."

"Apparently she did. You gonna listen to her advice?" You think for a bit, watching them all after turn.

"Yeah, why not. I got a soft spot for old ladys so. But do make no mistake, I am gonna demand you pay for whatever you favors you need. I'm not free."

"Of course not, wouldn't dream of it." The grin are toned down now, disguised as a friendly smile. Jax stretches his hand out.

"Of course you wouldn't."

"So we have deal?" You take his hand and shake it.

"I guess we do. Now leave, I got stuff to do." They all turn away, mounting and starting their bikes with practised ease. You follow them through the whole deal, not moving or looking away. You watch the guy called Juice a little closer than the other two perhaps, but you wouldn't admit that to anyone. A few minutes later the bikes can't be heard anymore, you are alone again. What a uncommon welcome committee. 


	3. Crates

The next time you meet someone from the club, it's still them seeking you out. It's unannounced and you are yet again unprepared, this time you're in the middle of painting your living room, so you meet them shirtless, only in some old gym-shorts, and worn sneakers. The place had been newly renovated yes, but the green color of the living room was ghastly. Also, you weren't quite used to the heat, hence the lack of a shirt. You can hear the pull up, so you go out to meet them, arms crossed over your chest. It's Juice again and some older man that's new to you.

"Hello. Name's Bobby and you must be the new owner?"

"Yes that's me." You take his outstretched hand, mirroring the smile, albeit a bit more fake.

"I know you met Juice before, so let's get down to it. You got somewhere we can talk?" Your eyes shift back and forth between them, deciding if they pose a threat as of now. You decide they don't, for now.

"Yeah, the kitchen. Come on in, keep your shoes on." At least you'll be close to knifes if anything happens. Although, you doubt a knife would win over the several guns they probably are both carrying.

"I thought the place was renovated a few years back?" Bobby asks as soon as he enters your house and see your plastic covered living room. Juice keeps quiet, yet again the silent watcher.

"Yeah, but I'm no old lady, so I'm redoing parts of it."

"That's got a be a lot of work." You resist rolling your eyes, and open the fridge instead to get some water. The cold feels nice on your sweaty chest.

"Not really. Now, I do doubt you came here to discuss my interior plans, so please don't waste my time."

"I won't. We need a place to store some crates." Bobby doesn't specify, you know he won't if you ask either.

"How big and how many?"

"About half of your dining table, and 20 for now." This time it's Juice who speak, and yes, you definitely like his voice.

"That's gonna take some space, but I think I know where to put them. Follow me." You take them to your barn, and to the hay loft.

"You could hide them in the back, I have a new load coming soon, so they can probably be there for at least a few months." 

"This seems very good. What do you think?" Juice looks around, assessing the place, answering with a short nod. 

"Good, we'll come by at midnight tonight with the crates." After you shake hands with Bobby on that, they are gone within a few minutes, leaving you to your own business.

 

* * *

 

"So, how did it go?" Bobby and Juice have barely set their foot inside the door before ask them.

"We'll store it in his barn, well hidden behind hay. He said they could be there at least a few months." Juice responds quick, and Jax nods. 

"Did you find out anymore about him?" 

"He's not in any gang or club, but he's in pretty good shape."

"How do you know?"

"We saw him shirtless." Juice answers without a blink, and Jax smiles like he's about to laugh.

"Jesus, did you guys ask him to strip for you?" The grin on Jax's face is childish and teasing. Bobby rolls his eyes, wishing he could grow up a bit.

"He was already shirtless when we got there. Except from a scar on the back his left shoulder and some paint, he's clean." Bobby goes to pour himself a drink while Jax thinks on that. Juice stays were he is, waiting for the next thing to do.

"Hmmmm. When did you say we were dropping off the crates?"

"Midnight, tonight." 

"Juice, you go tell the guys, I think most of them are in the garage." Juice nods and leaves. When the door closes behind him, Jax turns to Bobby.

"What do you think of him? Do you think he poses danger to the business?" Bobby takes a sip of his drink to think.

"I doubt it. He says he's from somewhere far away, and he seems to have no ties around here, so I think he's good. These test-crates will confirm or deny that. If they're untouched in a week or two, he'll be good for the real stuff." They stay in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the quiet for a little while, before Jax leaves and head out. Bobby is left with his thoughts about you and if you are a risk worth taking.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's several chapters of build-up now, but soon, I promise.


	4. Rush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for taking forever

After the club (Tig, Bobby and Juice) drop of the crates, you hear nothing for a few days. You go about your life as a normal farm owner, even taking a few trips into town for some supplies and meeting new people. Most are friendly, but you swear you can hear people whispering behind your back. You choose to ignore them; you're new in town so it's not totally unexpected. You are starting to settle into the new house, all your renovating is done quickly, so you have more time to get used to running a farm. It’s nice and quiet, at least for a while.

The crates have only been in the hay loft for a week when the club comes for another visit, although this time it’s not planned on their part either. You’re just finishing up some stuff in the barn, getting ready to go inside and head to bed, when you hear several vehicles coming up the driveway. Not knowing what to expect, you stay in the barn to see who’s coming up the driveway.

There are three bikes and a big black van. You notice the reaper on the kuttes, so you leave the barn when the guys on the bikes dismount. It’s Jax, Tig and some tall guy with a beard and long hair who you don’t know are getting of the bikes and walking towards you. There’s another guy who jumps out of the driver’s seat of the van, you don’t recognize him either. They all seem like they are in a hurry, as soon as Jax opens his mouth you get inkling to why that might be.

“You got a proper medkit?”

“Yeah, why?” The guy who jumped out from the van opens the sliding door and from inside you get a groan of pain, answering for Jax. You sigh and wave for them to follow you inside.

“Take whoever sucker got hurt and get him on my dining table, let me just put something on it so you won’t ruin the table.” You hurry and find some towels from the bathroom, careful to only take darks ones, so the blood that are probably going to stain them won’t be as visible. You also grab you medkit, which is pretty big and extensive. Just a few seconds later, the guys bring in the guy, who turns out to be the weirdo named Juice.

They put him down, careful to not jostle him too much. Even though, he lets out another strangled moan of pain. You don’t even ask where he got hurt; the blood collecting on the left shoulder on the white t-shirt he’s wearing underneath the kutte shows it clearly. You push the kutte aside, looking at the wound more closely. It’s clear that a bullet have lodged itself inside Juice’s shoulder. It’s not in a too bad place and not in too far, it’s not causing too much damage: it just hurts like hell. For a brief second you wonder why they wouldn’t go to the hospital when it’s not a live or die situation, but then you remember that whatever they were doing that got them shot was probably illegal.

“Can you do something while we wait for the doc?”

“I can raise you one better, I can get it out before whoever that is have even gotten on their way. My tools in the bottom drawer of the big box there.” You point to the box, and the guy with the beard opens it, indeed finding the tools there. He hands them to you; you can see the surprise on their faces.

“Thanks…” You let the thank you trail of into a questioning tone.

“Opie.” You nod at him, and then point to the other guy who you don’t recognize.

“And you are?”

“Chibs.”

“Okay guys, now that we all know each other, I need you all to hold little Juice here down so he won’t move, because I do not have anything to drug him with and this is gonna hurt like a mother fucker. First though, get his kutte and t-shirt off.” They do what you say with no protest, settling down quickly. While they do, you rummage around in a drawer, finding a wooden spoon. You wave it in front of Juice’s face, getting his attention.

“Here, you can bite down on this. I’m certain you have been here before, so you know how your teeth don’t feel very good if you don’t use this. Juice looks at you weird, but opens his mouth anyway. As soon as he does, you let him bite the handle, and start on the job of getting the bullet out.

Not to long after, a single bullet drops onto your counter, covered in blood. You clean the wound, close it up and cover it with bandages.

“There you go, no hold on a sec, I’ll go a find something you can borrow so you can get home.” Juice takes the wooden spoon of his mouth, sitting up with a groan. You leave them for a little while, finding an old black t-shirt. When you get in the room you toss, it at Juice, who catches it right before it hits him in the face.

“Now get out, I’m gonna clean up and then go to bed, so shoo.” The guys are not hard to ask, soon they are outside. Jax stops when he walks past on his way out and puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Thanks, you saved us a lot of time there.”

“Don’t mention it. Just make sure he rests and eats enough and you might not have to pay anything.” Jax knows you mean no harm, so he just huffs out something that’s very close to a laugh and leaves. The sound of the bikes and van leaving soon turn into silence, and soon your place is clean and free of blood. It’s like they were never there, except from the blood soaked t-shirt in the trash and Juice’s kutte who have slipped under the table, unnoticed and forgotten. (Not totally, but the guys are too tired to get it back before tomorrow.)

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning you get some other visitors for the first time. These are even less welcome than the club has been. You watch the sheriff car pull up, parking right front of the porch where you are watching them.

“What can I help you two gentlemen with?” The two guys stepping out of the car exchanges glances before one of them speaks.

“My name is Eli Roosevelt, I'm the sheriff in the town, and this here is officer Andy Smith. We got a report last night of some bikers visiting you last night.” 

“Why so interested in these bikers? What have they done?”

“They have prior records and are suspected to be involved in several illegal activites.”

“Haven’t really met any from the town, you guys are the first ones to take a trip up here since I moved in.” You can see that neither of them believes you, although they try to not give it away.

“You sure? You mind if we take a look around inside.” You force yourself not to sigh in irritation.

“Sure, be my guest.” You go inside and they follow close by. It’s annoying that they don’t take their shoes of when coming inside, but you say nothing. Roosevelt looks around kitchen, you stay close. The other guy disappears further into the house.

“So I heard in town that you moved from far away. Where are you from?”

“None of your or others business.”

“You might want to lighten that attitude, generally not a good thing to have in Charming.”

“Some friendly advice?” Roosevelt hums before moving to the dining room.

“You might say that….” He trails off. Suddenly he pulls out Juice’s kutte from under the dining table. ‘Oh shit’ is the only thought going through your head before you snatch from him.

“What was that kutte doing under your table?” In the slight panic going on in your head, you only have one idea that doesn’t involve anything illegal explaining why it’s there.

“I’m dating one of the club members.”

“Dating?”

“Well more like fucking, but dating sounds better don’t you think?” You tilt your head with a grin, while the words ‘Oh shit’ goes on a loop inside your head.


	5. Clubhouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been super busy with wok and school, and will be for the next few weeks, but have this new chapter at least. (Also fixed some formatting in the last chapter, and gave the officer a name)

Okay, its official, you are really fucking stupid. Saying you are dating a guy from a motorcycle club have been one of your worse, if not the worst idea you have ever had. It’s a minor miracle that they had believed you and left. As soon as they had, you had jumped in your car and drove off to the clubhouse. You try not to stare daggers into the kutte lying in the seat next to you. You almost miss the clubhouse, having only driven past it when going into town for supplies. You stop the car close to the garage entrance, sure that the sheriff is not far behind; he’s most likely going to check if your story is true.

“Hey, where’s the entrance to the club house?” The guy working on the bike in the garage looks up with surprise. He looks unsure if he should even answer you, but when he spots the kutte in your hand he points you in the right direction. Without even a thank you you walk quickly to the door, slipping inside. There’s only three people inside, Jax, Bobby, and Juice. They stop talking almost immediately when you bust the door open.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" You don't bother answering Jax, striding over to them, throwing Juice's kutte at him as soon as you get close enough. He catches it right before he hits him in the face. 

"Next time you get shot and sewn up at someones dining room table, try to take every evidence that you have ever been there with you idiot." Juice raises a brow.

"What got you knickers in a twist?"

"The sheriff came to my house because someone saw you guys going to my farm, and they found your god damn kutte under my dining room table. In a lack of a better explanation of why that was under there that doesn't involve a bullet in your shoulder, I told we're fucking." The three men exchange glances, before they all scowl. Jax sighs.

"You could have just told them you were thinking of joining the club." 

"Two problems with that. 1: I don't have a bike, and wasn't planning on getting one. 2: Why would his kutte be under my dining room table for that?" Juice scowl deepens before he speaks up.

"It would at least sound a bit more fucking likely than we two fucking."

"I panicked okay? Doesn't matter anyway, what's done is done, and the he's probably coming here to check if I were actually telling the truth."

"Speak of the devil...." Bob mutters under his breath, drawing your eyes to screens with security cameras showing the sheriff's car pulling up outside.

"Shit, fuck, j..." Stopping yourself, you take a deep breath.

"You better play along with this, I would like to not get arrested just after moving all this way." Juice looks at you in shock, before shifting his gaze to Jax and Bobby, who just shrug.

"Tough luck kid." You see that the sheriff coming closer to the club house, so you move to stand in front of Juice. He glances at you, you put your hand on his right shoulder, like you were comforting him about something. The sheriff enters, and you turn around, letting your hand fall away. Instead you stay close to his right side, letting your arm wrap around his waist. Juice stiffens, you hope the sheriff or the officer doesn't notice.

"Ahh, so you came here first."

"Yeah, you know, people can meet and talk to people they are fucking outside a sexual situation you know." The sheriff doesn't look impressed by your defiant tone.

"Of course they can. Can I speak to Juice alone for a minute?" You tighten your arm around Juice, letting it seem like you're unwilling to let Juice go. 

"What are you going to do sheriff? Interrogate him about our relationship? Pretty sure you can't do that, and whatever you want to say you can say to all of us." The sheriff glances at Jax and Bobby.

"You two knew about this?" You hope they play along.

"Yup, walked in on them once, since there isn't exactly a lock on the cleaning closet here." The lie rolls easily of Jax's tongue, ignoring the fact that you haven't even been to the clubhouse before (minor details).

"I knew because Jack told me, couldn't keep it to himself for too long." Bobby sends Jax an exasperated look, Jax just grins. The sheriff hums, eyeing you and Juice. He still seems skeptical, you roll your eyes.

"Really man, I'll give you the fucking proof since you clearly belive we're all bullshitting you." You let go of Juice's waist, turning him to face you, careful of his left shoulder. You kiss him, one light one first, giving Juice time to prepare (and hopefully making him ready to fake it) before you dive in for a longer one. It takes a few seconds before Juice responds, but when he does, oh boy.

He gives it all, drawing you closer, seeming to pretend that his left shoulder is fine as to not alert the sheriff. He gives as good as he gets, it's only when someone clears their throat they you stop kissing. You don't let him get to far away, holding him close and sending a very unimpressed look towards the sheriff and the officer.

"You got enough proof now? Or do you need some more to stow away in that naughty part of your brain?" The sheriff shifts on his feet, clearly not expecting you to do anything. He also understand it's about time they leave, so he and the officer does after saying a short bye. You all watch them leave, no one moving before they have driven away and are out of sight of the cameras. As soon as that happens, Juice leaps away from you. You tell yourself that you don't want him to stay close longer, but you know that's a lie.

"What the fuck? Really?" You shoot Juice and unimpressed look.

"Hey, just improvising, trying to convince the guy. You think it worked?" Jax and Bobby exchange glances. Bobby speaks tentatively.

"Knowing the sheriff, I don't think he's was totally convinced." Another exchange of glances. 

"You might have to play along a little longer Juice." Juice glares as Jax.

"Fucking christ, really?" 

"Tough luck kid. At least now we'll have a  good reason as to why someone from the club might be going to the farm." Bobby luckily seems to reasonable, seeing the practical in the bizarre situation. At least what he says seems to calm Juice, who sighs a deep, suffering sigh.

"Fucking christ." You all stand in silence for a while before you speak up.

"Jax, would you mind getting the med kit for me?" 

"Why?"

"Juice moved his shoulder to much, most likely he's bleeding again."

"I'm fine." You send Juice a rather unimpressed look, taking a few steps so you can stroke your finger over the t-shirt where his wound is. Your finger comes back red. Jax goes to get the med kit, Juice lets out an annoyed sigh.


	6. Invite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I should be sleeping, but fuck that, have another chapter.

After fixing up Juice yet again, threatening to put the bullet back in if he's not careful, you leave the clubhouse. You are aware of the car following you to your place, but ignore it.

* * *

 

For the next two and a half days your life seems pretty normal. You feed the animals, take care of the plants, do some maintenance on the farm equipment, and other normal things. Your long driveway cut you off from the main road, but you are sure there's a car or some sort of surveillance placed just outside your property. You choose to ignore it, only leaving the farm to get simple stuff. Except from a short stop to get a new wrench (you're not even sure how you managed that one), the only place you can be seen are at the grocery store.

And then, Juice shows up again. You don't even hear him coming, you're too busy trying to fix the engine on your tractor and swearing up a storm. 

"I don't even know what half of those words mean." You hit your head on the underside of the open hood. He snorts, you glare at him rubbing the back of your head.

"What do you want asshole?"

"You this nice to everyone you fuck?" You grunt, rubbing off the engine grease from your hands and arms with a rag.

"I'll blow you later, just tell me why you are here?" You are getting impatient, and it seems Juice likes it, if the shit-eating grin on his face is anything to go by.

"Just need to check on the crates." You wave towards the barn.

"You know where they are, go check for yourself, I'm gonna go get some water in the mean time." 

 

* * *

 

After getting some water, which was heaven in this heat, you go and sit on your porch, fishing out a cigarette pack from your back pocket and lighting it.

"Those are going to kill you you know." You look up, again you missed Juice getting closer.

"Wouldn't be the first thing that tried today." At his quizzical look, you point over to the tractor.

"The damn engine blew up while I was driving it. Had to ask the neighbour for help hauling it back here."

"You need any help with that?" You take a deep drag and wave your hand, blowing smoke mostly at Juice while you speak.

"Nah, I found the problem just before you got here, just need to go into town and get some new parts." Juice nods, taking a step closer and reach for the cigarette. He plucks it out of your hand and takes a deep drag.

"I might have had another reason for coming here than the crates." You hum, taking back your cigarette.

"Why am I not surprised."

"The club is having a party tomorrow night and you are invited. Bobby thought it would be a god idea to invite you." You raise an eyebrow.

"Okay, sure. I'll come, anything I need to bring?"

"Nah, just your sweary self."

"That I can manage."

"Good, see you tomorrow." You get up and grab ahold of Juice's wrist before he can leave.

"Wait." He looks annoyed at you.

"The farm is being watched. I don't know how throughly, but it would look a bit weird if you left after barely ten minutes.

"Not every fuck takes a long time you know." You snort.

"Yeah, but not ten minutes either."

"You underestimate how good I am." You raise an eyebrow, not at all impressed by what he's hinting at.

"Or you overestimate your own abilities." You take one last drag of the cigarette before you stub it out in the gravel.

"Come on, I'll make us dinner, and then you can leave."

"Really? Bribing me with food?"

"Hey, beats sitting around watching me drag parts out a tractor engine while we pretend to be fucking."

"You got a point there."

"Of course." You say as you drag him into the kitchen.

 

 


	7. Party

Honestly, you never really had anything to do with a motorcycle club before. All you really knew about them were that they tend to be violent and not necessarily the most loving or accepting kind of people in the world. So you are kind of tense going to the clubhouse for a party you don't even know what is for.

When you get there, you are actually a bit early. You're hesitant to enter, but you know your arrival won't have gone unnoticed. So you exit the car and go inside the clubhouse.

There's not many people there yet, a few you know, most of them you don't. The woman making her way over to you is unknown. She gets real close, and before you can say anything at all, she has slapped you hard, hard enough to make your head turn.

"You are fucking stupid you know that?"

"What a lovely greeting, and I don't even know your name." You rub your cheek, staring at the woman who looks pissed as hell.

"The name is Gemma, and you better remember the name, because if you mess with Juice, it's me who gonna beat your ass."

"You gonna beat my ass, got it. Is everyone who's coming here tonight the same of you?" One of the guys you don't know who had been watching from the side chuckles.

"Nah, don't worry, most people are a tad bit more friendly than her." He reaches his hand out.

"The name is Clay Morrison, I'm the owner and club leader." You take his hand, pretending that it doesn't feel like he's trying to crush your hand. It definitely is on purpose. Juice appears from a corridor, spotting you trying to subtly get away from Clay's death grip on your hand.

"Hey, maybe try not to hurt the guy before there's a few more drinks involved yeah?" Clay lets your hand go, you move it behind your back as to not show you have to flex it to get some feeling back into it. Clay doesn't answer, but he leaves with Gemma to go talk to some other guys. Juice beckons you to follow him over to the bar. 

"What do you want?"

"A beer, whatever is fine." Juice ends down, pulling out two beers with blue labels from under the bar, popping them open with practiced ease.

"Almost expected you to say some fancy drink."

"Ohh, I can do that? Then I'll have a sex on the beach please." Your shit-eating grin makes Juice laugh mid-sip, making beer spurt from his mouth. He wipes his chin with the back of his hand, drying it on his white t-shirt, staining the fabric and making it partially see-through. You watch his hand with more interest that strictly necessary, Juice notices and quirks an eyebrow.

"Like what you see?"

"Just playing my role. If I'm pretending to fuck you, I should at least try to look interested." You take another sip of your beer and give him the finger.

"Who knows anyway?"

"Jax, Bobby, Gemma and Clay, everyone else doesn't need to know."

"So most of your club actually think we're fucking?"

"Yeah." Juice takes a big drunk from his beer. "My life is fucking weird." You glance over him.

"So is mine." You both stay there for a while, drinking beer and not really talking. After some time, Juice leaves you alone, the party have really started and he seems more eager to talk to some of the girls that have popped up. You get yourself involved in some sort of drinking game that is being played, not sure of the rules, but not letting a good excuse to drink get away from you.

 

* * *

 

It's a few hours and many drinks later that you stumble into one of the bedrooms you had learned existed during the night. Well, more like being pushed into, by someone laughing about you needing to relax. Whoever they are, they shut the door behind them, leaving you alone in the room. You don't really care, you actually feel ready to sleep and there's a bed that seems very comfortable to sleep on. You sit down, flipping your shoes off. You also take of your jacket and socks, leaving your pants and t-shirt on, guessing there might be a chance that you might need to leave the room if someone else want to use the room and bed for something else than sleeping. You lay down and roll the duvet around yourself. A second later you remember you should turn the light of, but you can't be bothered.

The door opening wakes you up just minutes later. You turn around, still wrapped in the duvet. It's Juice, he doesn't seem to be quite steady on his legs. He stumbles over to the bed, getting undressed on the way, until he's just in his boxers. Somewhere in his journey, he flips the light switch, so now the room is just bathed in the faint light coming through the windows. In your sleep you have rolled over to the far side of the bed, so there's plenty of room for him. He flops down, rolls over and drags you close. The sound you let out is an unexpected one.

"What are you doing?"

"Wouldn't anyone walking in thinking we actually aren't fucking, but secretly are doing this to cover up hiding illegal things in your barn. Also, you have hugged the covers." Even though his breath is only on your neck, you can smell the alcohol and something else. But he isn't wrong, you have indeed covered yourself with all of it. Twisting a little, you let him have about half of it. He doesn't get farther away though, he just goes back like he was before.

"You know, people might doubt that we're fucking if I'm pretty much fully dressed here." Juice hums in your ear.

"That an invitation to take your clothes off?" One of his hands strokes over your stomach, coming very close to the bottom of your t-shirt, you pretend like you don't suck in a breath.

"Not really, lets just hope no one comes in." Juice hums again, his hand stops, but doesn't leave your lower stomach. You let out a breath, and try to fall asleep. It's not long however before you feel a mouth on the back your neck. You stiffen.

"What are you doing now?" Juice takes his lips off just long enough just to answer.

"Giving you a hickey. Might actually make it look like we fucked even though you're overdressed." He goes right back to sucking and biting a mark on your neck. You gasp when he finds a spot you didn't even know you had.

"On the back of the neck is not normally where hickeys are." Juice grunts, before taking a hold of you and rolling your over in your back, making the world turn way too fast for your drunk brain. Before you can even react properly, he got his mouth (and teeth) just above your collarbone. You don't even know how to react, except from trying not to moan or move when he makes hickeys on your collarbone and neck. After a while, he sits up and admires his handiwork. Seeming satisfied he gets off you, falling asleep almost as soon as he hits the mattress. You however, do not. You lay there for a long time, just staring up at ceiling, trying to get your boner to go away. It takes a good while, but finally you too fall asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know sort of where I am going with this story, I just need to get there somehow. What do you guys think so far?


	8. The morning after

Somehow during the night, you and Juice have ended up in your first position, him at your back, hugged as close as he can get. You try not to move much, you just lay there, staring at the wall. You don't know how long it is before you feel Juice shift and then yawn.

"Morning." You get a mumble that you think is supposed to be the same thing said to you. After a few minutes of silence, in which you're sure Juice has fallen asleep again, he speaks up.

"How did you get the scar?" he asks, still not quite awake yet, pushing at the scar tissue with his nose. 

"By being a dumb kid."

"Okay, that really doesn't say much, Mr Mysterious."

"It's stupid. I was 18, graduating high school soon, and at a party celebrating with a bunch of people. I was shirtless for some reason, probably did a strip tease or lap dance for someone at some point. Anyway, I slipped on something spilled on the floor, and hit my shoulder on the kitchen bench. Got a cut and it bruised like hell, got one of my kinda sober friends to fix me up a bit. Couldn't use my shoulder properly for weeks."

"What did your parents think?" You snort.

"My parents honestly thought it was a bit funny, and my friends wouldn't let it go for months." Juice falls silent again, you almost fall back asleep.

"So you a good tease?" The noise you let out when you snap from your half asleep sate is less than dignified. Juice chuckles.

"Huh?" 

"You a good tease." Your mind blanks for a second before it catches up, coming up with a witty response.

"Gotta make those pussies wet and dicks hard bro." Juice snorts.

"Did you just call me bro?"

"Yes, I did bro."

"We're not bros."

"Aren't we though bro?"

"I swear if you say bro one more time I'll..." A shit-eating grin spreads over your face, not that Juice can see it anyway.

"You will do what, _bro?_ " Suddenly you find yourself on your back, trying to wrestle of Juice while he jabs his fingers into your sides, half tickling you, half punching you.

"Mercy, mercy!" You yell out, half laughing. Juice gets a hold of your hands, stopping you defending yourself. He holds your wrist in one hand, tickling you with the other. You laugh, trashing to try to get him off you. You could have done it, hadn't it been for the fact that you were a bit distracted because Juice was only in his boxers, something you had forgotten about until he was literally on top of you. The tickling keeps going for a few minutes, until Juice sits back and releases your hands. He grins, you just try to catch your breath from laughing. Suddenly Juice seems to spot the hickeys, freezing in place. He slowly touches one off them.

"Mean thing you did there last night bro, I might have to wear a scarf." You tease him, expecting a reaction to calling him bro still, but all you get is a blank stare. Instead of saying anything, he rather abruptly gets of you, marching over to the bathroom door, slamming it behind him. You blink slowly, taken aback with his reaction. You get up as well, slowly going over to the door and knocking gently on the door.

"Juice?" Silence.

"Juice, talk to me." Nothing.

"Come on, what is it." You hear Juice moving in there, but he says nothing. You take the lack of response for what it is, so you put your socks, jacket, and shoes on and leave the room. You don't exactly know why he responded the way he did to the hickey, but you can guess. For him the thought of making hickeys on another dude might have not been his favorite one. Walking down the hall, you hear the sounds of glass bottles clink together and breaking. When you get to the main room, you spot Gemma shoving bottles and other trash into several trash can.

"Morning." You greet her, she barely gives you a glance before going back to tiding up.

"Morning. You're up early." You glance at the clock hanging on the wall, it's 11:45 am.

"This is hardly early." Gemma snorts, emptying an ashtray into the trash.

"For these guys it is, especially after a party."

"Well, I own a farm, so it's kinda hard for me too sleep in most of the day." You start to gather some trash yourself, as not to be an ass who just talks instead of helping.

"Speaking of which, shouldn't you have gone home last night?" 

"Nah, it's fine, bribed the neighbour boy to do the morning stuff. But I should get back soon." Gemma looks you up and down.

"At least it looks like you had some fun last night." You give her a weird look.

"The hickeys, I can see them from way over here." She smirks, you curse.

"Jævla drittsekk." You had hoped your t-shirt and jacket would hide all of them, but apparently not.

"What did you say?"

"Tell Juice when you see him that he's a fucking piece shit." Gemma snorts.

"Sure." You dump the trash you have collected in one of the trash cans, and wave your goodbye, leaving Gemma alone to finish cleaning. When you get in your car, you use the rearview mirror to take a proper look at yourself. Your curse again, hitting the steering wheel. Juice really did a number on you, the hickeys are big, and there's quite a few of them. It's gonna take some good time before they're gone.

You were just teasing Juice with the scarf thing, but now it doesn't seem like a bad idea, if you ignore the warm early summer weather. Pulling out off the parking lot, while you are thinking about maybe googling how to cover up hickeys with makeup and going shopping for some, you're unaware of the eyes following you, both from outside and inside the clubhouse.


End file.
